


burn before the fire

by shishiswordsman



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, In Which Udon Wasn't Just a Training Arc, Rating May Change, Wano Arc (One Piece)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shishiswordsman/pseuds/shishiswordsman
Summary: Luffy’s fine.Law knows this. Finds himself not even considering another possibility.Luffy’s fine.
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy & Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 25
Kudos: 133





	burn before the fire

Luffy’s fine.

Law knows this. Finds himself not even considering another possibility.

Luffy’s _fine._

When Law watched Kaido strike down Luffy as if he was nothing more than a fly, he felt more disappointed than shock—more angry than aghast.

Angry, because Luffy just _had_ to attack Kaido without even a moment’s consideration. Disappointed, because then they had to wait for Luffy to bust himself out of whatever box the Yonko decided to throw him into. All of it, a delay in Law’s plan. Nothing serious. Certainly nothing to be worried about.

Straw Hat being who he is, it’s easy for Law to write off everything that happens as a stupid blunder, or an idiotic whim that leads to wreckage and frayed nerves for everyone else involved. Easy to dismiss, easy not to question—easy to move on without prodding or checking-in, because that is just how Luffy is. Doesn’t stop to consider, doesn’t pause to breathe, won’t break to think. Ever.

And because such, a week before the fire festival, Law caves to his own whims. Seeing Straw Hat galloping around with his crew ignites something in him. Luffy’s carefree, laughing and poking his friends, as if nothing at all has happened. It’s been hours since he made it back from Udon with Eustass Kidd and his first mate in tow. Nothing at all unusual except Luffy showing signs of a fever, burning up from some disease Chopper said he’d gone out of his way to contract.

Typical. Almost the eve of a battle that will shake all corners of the seas—a battle of the strongest pirates in the worst. And _Straw Hat_ of course not using even half a brain cell to think ahead and try and keep himself in some reasonable form of health.

This ridiculous charade isn’t something Law can just forgive and forget—and then there’s the other thing. Shinobu’s distrust, and the Straw Hats' silence.

The sting of accusation still burns under Law’s skin. The very idea that his crew would even consider betraying the Straw Hat’s—betray the alliance—isn’t something he can just brush off. Even if it was just the ninja woman saying it, it barely mattered. His crew are his rock, his lifeline, his heart (pun unintended), and insulting them is insulting him. If there was a silver of doubt in his crew’s integrity, then he wants to know, _needs_ to know.

He finds Luffy sitting under a copse of trees, their bark white, striped with black. He’s asleep—eyes closed, breathing even and deep.

Luffy is sleeping, when everyone around them is preparing for a fight that may cost them their lives.

Law grits his teeth. When he grabs Luffy’s shoulder, shaking him awake, he can feel rubber shift and stretch under his grip, tighter than usual. He means to say something chiding and cold, something that would fit his and Luffy’s usual patterns. Something Luffy would normally shrug off, laugh at.

But he doesn’t have time to even part his lips.

His eyes snap open the second Law touches him, harsh breath escaping Luffy’s lips. Then Law’s back is slammed into the trees, hard enough to make the wood splinter beneath him. 

Luffy’s gotten up in a flash, twisting them around so Law’s pinned. He blinks rapidly, round eyes filled with confusion—and something else Law can’t name. Luffy does nothing more than stare for a moment, knit in his brow, a tenseness in the way he holds himself.

And then, he lets go of Law. Slowly, each finger stiff when he unclenches them, pulling away. Looks away, too, almost sheepish. Luffy rubs the back of his head and, says, “Sorry, Torao. Didn’t realise it was you.” His dark eyes focus on Law for a moment, breath coming out as though forced from his lungs. But then he grins, yawns, and Law dismisses the moment’s worry. “Is something wrong? I’m busy.”

“You were sleeping,” Law points out. He holds onto Kikoku a bit tighter out of reflex, out of habit born from years on the run, alert—holding it like he would if he were to unsheathe the nodachi. “Is everything alright, Straw Hat-ya?”

“Yeah, of course it is.” Luffy twists his hat in his hands before putting it on his head. “Was there something Torao wanted to talk about?”

And the anger and hurt comes roaring back to life, just like that—because it seems, clearly, like Luffy doesn’t care at all.

Law clenches his hand into a fist. “Yes, there was. What the fuck were you thinking?”

A furrow forms between Luffy’s brows, a crinkle at the bridge of his nose. Annoyance, Law names it. “I’m tired—”

“You challenged Kaido,” Law interrupts, heated. “He’s a Yonko, if you forgot? What were you thinking?”

“Oh. That.” Luffy looks away, biting at his lower lip angrily, teeth gnashing against soft skin. “I thought he killed our nakama.”

Those words frost the air between them, makes it frigid when Law breathes it in. And if Law wasn’t so absolutely sure that Luffy was fine and nothing is wrong, he’d probably pause here, take a step back.

But he is, and he doesn’t.

Nothing is wrong. Luffy is fine.

Law narrows his eyes. “You have haki. You’d have known if they—” He can’t bring himself to say it. Instead: “You’re lucky Kaido decided to throw you in jail instead of simply killing you.”

“Lucky?” Luffy echoes, monotone.

“Yes. He could have just as easily killed you.” Law shudders, holds his breath for a moment. “At least now we can try again.”

Luffy’s chin hangs low, bangs shadowing his eyes. He makes an odd noise at the back of his throat, something strangled. And then he turns his back on Law, walks away.

Law scowls. “Don’t you dare fucking go.” Shambles himself in front of Luffy, fierce. “If you don’t start thinking ahead, you’re going to get someone killed!”

“I know.” Luffy mutters.

The way he says it is out of place—like a puzzle piece from a different picture. It doesn’t fit, its edges irregular, sharp where you’d expect softness. Nothing makes sense—this is _Luffy._ He’s open and self assured and a rock to weather all storms, but yet his shoulders are drawn to his ears, body tense. Seeing it makes an interesting sense of wrongness swell at the back of Law’s head. He can’t place it.

Luffy scuffs at the ground with his foot, shifts his weight, says, “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, Torao. ‘M gonna go back to sleep now.”

“No, you’re—” Law starts, but anger cuts him off, lodging in his throat, making speech impossible. He reaches out on impulse, grabs Luffy’s shoulder—because that went so well last time—and snarls, “Straw Hat-ya! Take fucking responsibility!”

But just like before, Luffy brushes him off. His hand is a bit sweaty where he shoves against Law’s bare chest, pushing him roughly away.

“Leave me alone, Torao!” Luffy snarls in his face, feral. “I said I’m tired!”

And this is when Trafalgar Law, a colossal idiot, finally realises that something is off.

Terribly, horribly off.

Luffy leaves, and Law stays where he’s left him. And that’s when he finally realises it: he’s used to being on the other side of this interaction, being the one who brushes Luffy off. Being on the flipside of things is unnatural, jarring.

Something is wrong.

And Luffy is not fine.

* * *

He doesn’t know where Luffy is.

Once he’s had a nice and productive fifteen minute long melt down over Luffy’s behaviour—overanalyzing his every move, his every reaction—Law starts walking back to the village, to the others.

He had no idea. Why hadn’t he noticed it sooner? Something is clearly wrong with his ally; something big enough that it’s managed to shake even Luffy to his core.

He spends many minutes dragging his fingers against Kikoku’s red strings, focusing on their threads and how they catch between cracks in the whites of his nails. He can’t think of anything—the only time he’s seen Luffy affected by something to an extent where he’s truly hurt, harmed, was when his brother’s thoracic cavity was turned into—you know—just a cavity. Luffy was going to be there on his own, and Law knew for a fact that Luffy could hold his own, and more.

His crew are all accounted for, he’s still got 4 limbs and no brain cells. Law can’t imagine anything else that could make Luffy stumble and snarl like he had before. He wasn’t there, though he wishes he had been—wishes he hadn’t fled like a coward when Luffy rushed Kaido, even if that meant being captured with him. He’d once proclaimed that he’d sooner die beside Luffy than abandon him, and now it’s like he’s done just that: gone against his word. And it’s cost Luffy dearly.

Law wasn’t there. He doesn’t know.

But there’s one other, who was.

When the sun sets, dusk long since settling into a deep fog atop the moors, Law finds Eustass Kidd. Kidd’s in one of the ramshackle houses they’ve been staying in—a tired-looking place, bashed together out of driftwood and rusted tin.

When Law steps past the threshold, Kidd doesn’t move, doesn’t look up from the grooves of the table he’s slumped over. His chin coated with stubble, his eyes bloodshot and his makeup messy and nails unpainted, Kidd doesn’t look half the menace Law’s used to seeing him as. Like a shadow of himself, of what he used to be.

It’s the first time Law’s seen his arm without metal on it. It strikes him as an odd show of vulnerability from a man who normally exudes arrogance, but he assumes Kidd just doesn’t care enough to feign strength. He has other things on his mind, right now.

Kidd acknowledges him with a half-nod, the barest nudge of his chin. He’s drinking, the smell of alcohol overpowering even the smells of sweat and piss and misery. Kamazou the Manslayer—Killer, Kidd’s first mate, Law corrects himself—sleeps in a cot behind Kidd. It doesn’t escape Law’s notice how fully Kidd’s positioned himself between Killer and the doorway, between his first mate and potential attackers.

“Fuck do you want?” Is all Kidd has to say. His voice is gruff, tired, worn by whiskey and worry.

Law gets the sudden feeling he’s not welcome, somehow. He doesn’t let that bother him—takes a seat opposite to Kidd, resting Kikoku against the wooden table as a statement of peace. He considers pouring himself a drink, but doesn’t.

Then he opens his mouth, and closes it. The words he wants to say stay in his lungs, caught in between alveoli, tangled in the walls of his bronchioles, tied up in—

In truth, Law isn’t sure what binds his tongue.

In truth, he’s too afraid of the answer to speak the question.

Eustass Kidd shifts his weight, takes a long swig from the bottle Law’s left untouched. His eyes never leave Law.

“The prison.”

It’s all he says—all he needs to say.

“You talked to Straw Hat, I reckon.”

“I did.”

A grunt. Something closer to a growl. Kidd takes a long drink from the nigh empty bottle, and Law watches his shoulders slump marginally, watches him empty the bottle and uncork another with his power.

“I need to help him,” Law says. “If he’s messed up from Udon and we go battle Kaido, he can —”

He trails off, because saying that Luffy could fail even after seeing him be shot down by Kaido, it—his tongue ties itself into a knot before it can serve as a bridge for them to be spoken from, and Law swallows. Loudly. His pride isn’t an easy thing to get past that lump in his throat.

Yet he tries. “He’s my ally. We’re partners—” something in Kidd’s presence stiffens, as if pulled taut. Law carries on, “Tell me, Eustass-ya. Please.”

“Get out.”

“I need to—”

Kidd stands. His hand clutches the lip of the table, his shoulders shake. _“Get. Out.”_

The words he says are quiet, but they hold power. They’re a heavy grind, a growl that burrows into Law’s skin. The bolts and screws scattered around the table vibrate with the power of Eustass Kidd’s rage, and he can feel Kikoku jolt in her sheath, nearly toppling to the floor.

Law watches pearls of sweat gather on Kidd’s brow. One rolls down his temple, threatening to swerve on its path and land in his eye. Idly, Law observes Kidd, his gritted teeth, his rigid posture, and he wonders which will happen first—the droplet of sweat reaching Kidd’s eye, or all the metal in the room, breaching Law’s chest.

He never finds out. Behind them, Killer laughs in his sleep, and Kidd grimaces fiercely at the sound, his grip on the bottle of sake tightening until Law thinks it might break. Silence is a heavy fog between them, more liquid than it is gas.

And then, Eustass Kidd wilts before Law’s eyes.

“The prison,” Kidd repeats. The words sound as if they are being dragged out of his lungs, painful, as if they flay his throat as he speaks. The look in his eyes is a haunted one. “Listen, Trafalgar.”

Law does. After a while, he understands very well why this was a subject Kidd didn’t want to touch on.

Luffy’s behaviour begins to make a lot more sense—his alertness, fearing an attack even in sleep. Law’s fingers fidget, and they only still again when they find the familiar dents and grooves on Kikoku’s weathered sheathe.

“That bastard,” Law hisses. Grits his teeth, eyes narrowing. “I’ll kill him for what he’s done.”

“Wasn’t him directly, was it?” Kidd laughs, humourlessly. “The guards are dead. It’s over.”

It doesn’t look like it is, Law thinks, when he’s faced with the bloody bandages wrapped around Kidd’s entire body, the redness of infection peeking out where skin is flashing through them. The dark circles underneath his sunken eyes, the greasy, matted mess of his hair. The things that happened in the prison would destroy far lesser men than Kidd and Luffy—but they’re Supernovas, and they’ve bent, not broken.

They’re alive, but it’s not over. None of it is over, yet. They’ll fight Kaido in two days’ time. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for psychological care.

“Thank you,” Law says. The second it seems like Law’s about to leave, there’s a shift in the air, a tenseness. Law’s throat feels like sandpaper, and he stops, wonders. Offers, “Eustass-ya, if you need me to—” 

“You got what you wanted,” Eustass Kid says with a rough, resigned finality. He sounds tired. So tired.

Law leaves him be.

* * *

Now that Law knows about the abnormality, it’s all he can see. The way Luffy holds himself is wrong—a bit too alert, spine a bit too straight, his balance centred a fraction too low. It’s telling, now that he can see the reality of things.

Luffy keeps his crew even closer than usual—a feat Law hadn’t thought was possible. But there he is, side by side with Roronoa, holding a hand with Robin while one arm is wrapped around Usopp’s shoulders. Robin’s eyes meet Law’s, matching Roronoa’s stare. They’ve noticed it, too.

Having learned from when they last spoke, Law doesn’t grab at Luffy to stop him. He doesn’t particularly want to be shoved around a second time in a few hours. “Straw Hat-ya. A moment.”

Luffy stops in his tracks at the sound of his epithet, looking over his shoulder at an angle only a rubber man can manage without unfortunate side effects like muscle pain and a snapped neck. “What now, Torao?”

Law braces himself. “Wanted to talk about what happened.”

“Well, I don’t.” Luffy turns around again, and he’s going to run off, Law knows; run off and avoid Law until the Fire Festival, and then he’s going to run off and fight Kaido with a half destroyed deck of cards, and then he’s going to die. And Law cannot—absolutely, definitely can _not_ let that happen.

“Luffy-ya.” He puts a weight behind Luffy’s name, hopes it’ll be enough to make Luffy actually hear him. “You can’t fight like this.”

Anger. Luffy glares at him, eyes like coals, and Law feels burnt. Lips peeling away from around a grimace, Luffy says, “That’s none of your business, Torao. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Distantly, Law is aware of the crowd around them—metal clanging against metal at the forge, people clamouring, Roronoa’s watchful eye drilling a hole between his own—but none of that matters. It’s background noise, the world around him a blur where Luffy’s all sharp edges and refined lines.

A bright flame Law’s eyes are drawn toward, the rest of the universe covered in smog.

Room forms in his hand without a thought or a word spared. Luffy makes an aborted protest when the hues of blue envelop them both, and absently Law finds that amusing—this, too, is an interaction that’s usually reversed between them.

They’re back at the copse of trees he found Luffy at earlier. It’s closer to dusk now, a dark veil settling slowly above them. Law remembers a night on the Thousand Sunny, after the birdcage; a night when he’d considered climbing over the ships railing and welcoming the cold waters below. Luffy had stopped him, then—he’d dragged Law from the balustrade, over to Nami’s orange trees. He’d made Law name constellations for him until he’d fallen asleep. He understood, somehow; had seen the invisible.

Luffy sputters some pissed protests about teleporting them here—there used to be a time when begging to be shambled was all Luffy could do—and Law takes a moment to observe. To see the invisible, too.

It’s not good. 

“If you can’t fight Kaido at your fullest, I need to know now,” Law says. It’s a rough start, but it is a start.

Luffy’s silent, glaring at the ground like he thinks he can dig a hole into it with his gaze only. Perhaps if he tries hard enough, he can. His lips are drawn into a tight line that only grows thinner and more taut when Law repeats the question, insistent. He desperately wanting to hear _yes, yes I can, I’m okay._

More than that, he wants to believe it. 

“Can you fight?”

“Better than you,” Luffy mutters. He rubs at his eye, wipes away snot with his forefinger. He’s avoiding, and Law needs him to understand. He stands a bit straighter, stares away from Luffy, distancing himself for a moment. The lights from their encampment flicker faintly through the wall of tree trunks, a soft golden glow against the darkened sky. Somewhere there, their crews are waiting, settling in for another night spent one eye open. Constantly waiting for an attack. They need to be ready.

“If you falter, you’ll put the rest of us at risk too, Straw Hat.”

Luffy’s mouth opens, like he’s about to say something, and then snaps it shut. He looks away sharply, shoulders set, every muscle tensed. “Shut up, Torao. You don’t know anything.”

There’s no heat behind the words anymore. Law knows he’s hit a nerve.

“I spoke with Eustass-ya.” Luffy’s nostrils twitch, half his upper lip raising marginally. It’s all the reaction Law gets, but it’s enough. Law continues, “He told me about, about—about what happened. In the prison. I’m not a psychiatrist, but perhaps Nico-ya or Tony-ya—”

“No.” Luffy’s tone is a low grind; a boulder that can’t be moved, can’t even be budged. But he isn’t leaving. For once, he’s listening, and Law’s taking that as a good sign.

“You don’t want to tell your crew,” he says, swallowing thickly, remembering doing the same for far too long. “I understand. But there’s things that don’t heal by ignoring them, Straw Hat-ya—you should know that. They can help you.”

He half expects Luffy to punch him, now. Bringing up his meltdown on the Island of Women is below the belt.

But he doesn’t. He simply stares at his hands, intertwining his fingers over and over again. His hands are wrapped in band-aids and gauze. Law waits for his words to sink in.

“What does it matter,” Luffy says, after what feels like a long time, his voice breathy and tired. “It doesn’t matter if I feel bad, Torao. We still gotta fight Kaido.”

He doesn’t sound angry to Law’s ears, though, and somehow that’s more startling than anything—the absence of ire leaves a void that’s filled by resignation, by hatred.

There’s something else too, but Law doesn’t have a name for it yet.

Worse yet, he’s right. They don’t have time to stop and lick their wounds—if they don’t use every waking moment to patch the holes in their plans and parapets, they’re as good as dead. There's no time to fall down now. Luffy has to hold it together.

Law understands this. He doesn’t have to like it.

“Will you lose?”

He doesn’t mean to say that; the question falls off his tongue before he can reel it back in. He’s hardly even sure he knows what he’s asking about—whether it’s about their battle to come, or about the battle raging right now behind Luffy’s round, bright eyes. Still, he has to ask.

Luffy purses his lips. He’s really taking the time to consider his answer, and Law appreciates it—it makes it all the more sweet when Luffy grins at him wearily, lopsided, and answers with a resounding yes.

He won’t lose. He’ll fight, and he won’t be alone in the battlefield.

Luffy asks him about something completely unrelated—about the patches on his kimono, about the bloody lines on Kikoku’s sheathe, about the music Ikkaku was playing earlier. He wants a subject change, and Law allows him one.

Time passes with them sitting on the outcropping of rocks underneath the thick copse of birch trees. Luffy’s voice returns to him with each word he uses to tell Law about his nakama, about the funny faces he’d heard they’d made when they heard he’d been captured. His head winds up rested against Law’s shoulder, Law’s arm wrapped around him. It’s comfortable—the winds blowing from the sea are warm, now; the cooling gales of a hot day turning to night. 

The canopy of slim branches above them seems like its cradling the sky, holding the stars afixed to where they’re rooted, filtering ages old light through them. It dapples on Luffy’s skin, that light.

“After Kaido, we’ll talk.”

“I don’t need to—” Luffy starts, the affront from earlier rising anew for a moment. 

Something makes him pause, though—later, when he’s alone on his own ship, candles melting into puddles of wax around him, Law will wonder if it was something on his own face, some unsaid plea—whatever it is, it’s enough to make Luffy reconsider. Scrunching his nose, the younger captain looks down at their joined hands. Silence. The light of the stars on the weave of Luffy’s hat. Moisture, seeping through the threads of Law’s kimono.

“Fine,” Luffy mutters. One word _—his_ word. Law knows Luffy will honour his promise.

He exhales. Slow.

After Kaido, they'll talk.

**Author's Note:**

> this was a back up secret santa fic for @irafook on tumblr! merry angstmas. i feel like all i've gifted you is the wait of an update, so. sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, my bad. i wanted this to be a oneshot but it really needs more resolution than this, so i'll write that eventually.
> 
> betaed by [may](https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_rosenkov/works/). she absolutely saved me here, show her works some love!
> 
> [tumblr](http://shishiswordsman.tumblr.com/) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/shishiswordsman)


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